Boundaries
by Kitty in a Cornfield
Summary: The instructors at Glynco made clear the boundaries between Marshals and witnesses; but then again, in Tim's defense, it's not like anyone came right out and said not to fall in love with them. Rated T for language, may go up.
1. Chapter 1

Hey, guys. First fic I've written/posted in ages, so I hope you guys like it. It's my effort to throw out a little Tim fandom into the Justified section. This is sort of just a series of short stories I'm writing in my spare time, when I can't sleep and need a break from work and school. Also, as we know very little about Tim at this point in the series (you know, beyond the whole wise ass ex-ranger thing), I've taken the liberty of writing some of his backstory. Because I'm awesome like that... and really, really tired... Enjoy! (yawns)

Disclaimer: I do not own and am not affiliated with FX, Elmore Leonard or anything related to Justified. I am not obsessed with the show and the character of Tim Gutterson. I do not have Jacob Pitts handcuffed to my bed and completely at my mercy... that I'll publicly admit. Olivia is mine, though.

If Olivia had been given a choice as to where exactly she was to be relocated, she would _not_ have picked Kentucky. Not that there were a whole hell of a lot of places that she was dying to see, but whenever she'd thought of Kentucky before, she'd always had a clear picture in her mind as to what the place would be like. There would be endless country, bad accents that would make her want to rip her own hair out – and she rather liked her chin length strawberry red bob – and everyone would have bad teeth and wear ugly clothes. It was, perhaps, an unfair generalization of what many considered to be beautiful and welcoming country territory, but it was an opinion that had been formed when she was six years old and stayed up past her bedtime, watching a movie where a group of girls had been kidnapped by hillbillies on the highway and held captive, eventually escaping only to be slashed into tiny little bits, while a brooding detective stumbled repeatedly as he attempted to solve the case. So she didn't see a problem in a mistaken assumption or two.

Besides, she had learned two things from that late night slasher movie marathon on the horror channel. The first was that gore was laughably bad during the 70s, when the film had been made. The second lesson she had taken away from the girls' ill fated road trip was that cops are incompetent jackholes and if you ever find yourself in a scrape, you better be ready to claw your way out for dear life because there's no one you can really rely on.

No, she would never have chosen Kentucky. But then again... "So, tell me Deputy Gutterson. Where in Kentucky are you from?" ...she hadn't expected to find a specimen such as the good deputy. He stood half a foot taller than she and when he'd taken her arm and escorted her from the train to the black SUV in the parking lot, she'd had ample opportunity to examine him carefully and take in every detail of his light brown hair that sometimes looked blond in the right light, his deep blue eyes that guarded more about him than they revealed and his perfectly formed muscles, which were defined but not overly so. She had no illusions that he was any different from any other man she'd ever met and, in the end, didn't and would never really give a damn about her or her safety, but it'd been a while since she'd spotted anyone she found at all pleasing to the eye and so she couldn't resist a friendly question or two when she would otherwise have kept to herself in the backseat.

And, she thought in annoyance and a hint of sadness, the good deputy was acting with nothing but professionalism. If she weren't sick of being a whore, she might have taken it personally.

Tim drove from the Lexington train station toward the courthouse, his mind half focused on looking out for any danger and the other half focused on the girl in the backseat. He wasn't expecting any trouble, of course, but if he'd learned anything during his time in Afghanistan, it was that nothing was to be taken for granted. And that, he thought, included her questions about him. He glanced back at her in the rearview mirror and reluctantly admitted to himself that she was indeed pretty. Her features weren't classic and she looked pale and thin enough to perhaps be or have been anorexic, but there was something in her eyes that hinted at a past that had seen too much and a hope to be a part of something better. It was probably what he'd found the most appealing about her, he thought, why he'd had to force himself to be just a little more distant, a little more cold than usual. It was the same expression he'd seen in his own eyes when he'd looked in the mirror during his final months as a ranger and sometime after he'd returned home. Hell, he still saw it sometimes.

But he was leaving those days behind him now and Olivia Mason was strictly off limits. "I'm from Louisville, Ma'am." he answered her simply and offered nothing more. Relationships between witnesses and marshals were a strange thing to manage; on the one hand, he had to keep Olivia at a distance from himself and stay unattached, for both her safety and his own, but he also had to gain her trust and reassure her of her safety, which inherently meant that Tim also had to be willing to offer up just a little bit of himself for Olivia to put her faith in. Even if, Tim reminded himself quietly, she wasn't going to be in Kentucky long before she was to give her testimony and then be moved to a new location. In just a few months, she would be somewhere else and he would just be a distant memory, a stepping stone, toward her new life.

The thought gave him a strange kind of comfort. "Any brothers or sisters?" Olivia asked. She'd always wanted an older brother, someone to look out for her. Protect her. God knows her father had done a damned shitty job of it. She'd thought about her status as an only child a lot since she'd gotten into her line of work and had quickly added it to the list of things she blamed on her father. Tim let out a quiet sigh.

"Older sister." he answered. He bit back the thoughts that immediately followed the mention of her; he hadn't heard from her in the past few days. He wondered if things were all right, if she'd worked things out with Jack after all or if they were having the lawyers argue out a new custody agreement. He saw Olivia smile in the mirror.

"Lucky. Are you two close?" she asked with interest. She would never have guessed that he'd had an older sister. He seemed so goddamned distant that she'd assumed he was an only child as well. In her vast experience of men with sisters, they were usually warm toward the opposite sex. They'd been trained to be from a young age at the risk of their sisters getting their asses in trouble. She wondered briefly if she was making him uncomfortable with her questions, then wondered why she'd even considered it when she didn't really care.

Tim debated the question. He didn't usually discuss his family with anyone, let alone witnesses. Shit, no one had really even asked before and Tim wasn't the type to invite questions about himself. He thought that it was probably a line of questioning that he should try to avoid, but the traffic was so goddamned slow and he was still a good fifteen minutes from the courthouse, and she was staring at him from the backseat with those chocolate brown eyes that were practically begging for a conversation that didn't revolve around her testimony or the fact that she'd just left everything she'd ever known behind her. And Tim... had been taught to take care of a woman, give her what she needed. A lesson he'd learned early on in life, he reflected, courtesy of his sister. "We try to be." he answered her. He resisted the frown that tugged at his lips when he saw her make that same motion at his words. She sighed unhappily.

"Sounds complicated." Olivia said, wondering what exactly 'we try to be' meant. How did one 'try' to be close to someone else? You were either close to that person or you wished they would be run over by a bus. Well, all right, she thought. Maybe that was a tad extreme, but still...she supposed it could explain the distance. He had mommy issues. Or sister issues. Whatever the fuck those intellectual mind readers called it. "How does your wife feel about it?" she asked, not too subtly. She was half hoping to make him squirm, just to get some kind of reaction out of him. Annoyingly, it didn't work and she guessed the deputy knew full well that she hadn't missed the lack of a wedding band on his left hand ring finger.

Actually, Tim had never really thought of marriage in his life. He'd never had the time for it. "I'm not married." he told her. Hell, he'd never even been close.

"Girlfriend, then." Olivia corrected herself, her thoughts drifting from the conversation to the smell of fried chicken as they drove past a restaurant. Damn, she was starving. How long had it been since she'd eaten? _What __**had**_ she eaten? It probably wasn't a good sign that she couldn't even remember. Her shift in focus wasn't lost on Tim and he made a quick mental note that she'd need food of some kind once they reached the courthouse.

"No girlfriend." Tim replied. Olivia returned her attention to the man in the driver's seat. So, he was single? She found that hard to believe. He was the classic strong, silent type, and he was definitely _nice_ to look at. Then again, the longest phrase he'd said to her since her arrival in Lexington had been '_Good morning, Miss Mason. I'm Deputy Gutterson. I'm here to take you to the courthouse._' before exchanging far more words that she couldn't quite catch with the marshal who'd escorted her there on the train. No asking how her day was – not that it was some kind of big mystery that her day had been complete shit so far, what with the all night train ride – or what the trip had been like, what she thought about Kentucky, what she was expecting. If she hadn't been asking him questions, they'd probably be sitting in a silent stupor as he drove through mid-afternoon traffic. She couldn't resist the next question.

"Boyfriend?" she asked curiously, one eyebrow raised ever so slightly as she waited for his reaction. She was satisfied when he immediately glanced back at her in the mirror again. His face held no sign of shock or annoyance at her questioning, but she noticed him shift slightly in his seat and had to bite back her smile at having finally gotten a reaction out of him. Not that she had Tim fooled, anyhow. He was well aware that even as he had noticed right away that she was pretty, she had also made her own assessment of his figure and judging by how often she looked him over and the questions she was asking him, he figured she probably liked the view.

Which is why, he thought, he would maintain distance and focus his attentions on the road and getting her safely to the courthouse. "No." he answered simply, refusing to say anymore on the subject. He was there to transport Olivia Mason, not tell her all about his personal life.

…not that he had a personal life…. but if he did, he was damned sure that he wouldn't be talking about it to a witness. Dear God, why was that statement so goddamned depressing? He didn't want to think about the answer.

"Too bad." Olivia said airily as she leaned back in her seat and closed her tired eyes. "You seem like the kind of guy a girl would be lucky to have." Not her, of course, because that was wholly impossible, but some leggy, petite damsel who couldn't count past ten without taking off her shoes and a vocabulary equally as minimal would be lucky to land a catch such as the next unabomber in the front seat. She wondered what kind of woman she'd be, to catch the deputy's attention. Soft or sturdy? Did he prefer strong women, who knew how to handle themselves, or women who preferred to be handled? Would they be the type of couple who talked about everything or would they just understand, simply by looking at each other, what the other was thinking or needed in that moment? …what must it be like, she thought…to be so connected to someone?

Tim could tell when she shifted from simply leaning back with closed eyes to having drifted off into sleep. Her breathing pattern changed and her face softened, relaxed, as her body tried to recover some of the strength it had inevitably lost during the hard trip there. He determined not to think on her words, although they still hung in the air. Not at that moment, at least. It wasn't the time, he thought, and in his car with a federally protected witness of a violent crime in his backseat was hardly the place. But still, he knew, when he returned home from work later that day, to his empty house with the television he barely watched and the six pack he didn't find appealing beyond the need for a drink after a long day, he'd crack open a bottle of beer and sit down on his overstuffed couch and his mind would drift back to these moments, this somewhat inconsequential conversation and that sleeping girl in the backseat who gave him the impression of both giving up and fighting tooth and nail at the same time. He couldn't get her to that courthouse fast enough.

So why, when the thought slowly entered his mind as he glanced back at her resting form once more, the silent wish that traffic might never move again, did the idea seem so appealing?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Bleh. It's been a hell of a week. :D Well, thanks to any readers who're hanging around. I was going to hold off on posting this just a little longer, until I have the next part all nice and neat and ready for posting (as I am a geek who likes to remain one chapter ahead of everyone else... I know, I'm horrible, right?), but it's Monday and the new episode airs soon and I'm anticipating being somewhat busy this week, so I figured what the hell. Just post it. So, I guess, just read on and there's more coming soon...

**Disclaimer:** I do not own and am not affiliated with FX, Elmore Leonard or anything related to Justified. I am not obsessed with the show and the character of Tim Gutterson. I do not have Jacob Pitts handcuffed to my bed and completely at my mercy... that I'll publicly admit. Olivia is mine, though.

* * *

Olivia's eyes drifted open at the gentle, insistent nudge of Tim's hand rocking her shoulder. Truthfully, she didn't really want to wake up. She had done her share of experimenting with drugs over the years, but sleep was her favorite. There were times when it washed over her, seeming almost to swallow her whole as she numbly gave in to its control. It was an escape, she knew. A sweet, wonderful escape from the reality that she faced; a reality that she had never wanted. She unconsciously fluttered half asleep eyes and tried to focus on Deputy Gutterson's face and not on the warmth of his strong hand splayed softly on her shoulder. He was frowning down at her, which, much to Olivia's dismay, she found both disconcerting and… somehow disappointing. "Miss Mason, we're at the courthouse." came the deputy's rich voice, slow with the southern drawl of his Kentucky accent. She shifted back in her seat and swallowed, her throat suddenly dry and her stomach tense.

They were there? In Kentucky? At the courthouse? ….it was all really happening. Olivia had been hoping it was merely a dream. She'd drifted off to sleep and found herself back at her house from when she was a little girl, smiling happily up at her mother as she baked something that, while it always seemed to smell delicious, always came from the oven black as coal. Why, she begged of the universe, couldn't _that_ have been the real world, and all of this simply a dream? She didn't want to leave the car, didn't want to face whatever was waiting for her in that office, or waiting for her however the hell long from now in the court room, or wherever she would go after that. She didn't want to face the things she'd done, much less the things she'd seen.

Tim felt his stomach knot when she woke from a peaceful sleep to become immediately apprehensive about where they were. As the marshal assigned to look after her for the next few months, he'd naturally been briefed on her case, first by Art and then by a lawyer. He knew what she'd been through, inwardly shuttered to think of a woman in such circumstances. He understood the kind of anxiety she had to have been feeling. The problem was, he also knew the terms of her deal. She had no choice but to walk into that office and go over the details of her temporary relocation. He sighed to himself, thinking silently that handling witnesses was perhaps the hardest part of his job. He could track down a fugitive and wrestle them into handcuffs without any real trouble and he had no qualms about pulling the trigger on a man if he needed to – he'd made a career out of it in the military, for fuck's sake – but witnesses… they required more than simply keeping on their heels or being ready to take the shot. He knelt down a little and offered her a look of gentle encouragement, to Olivia's surprise, though she did her best to cover it up as quickly as possible. "It won't take long," he promised. "and then you can get settled and get some real sleep."

The promise of sleep was almost too much for Olivia. She was so tired… so very tired at that moment. She didn't know whether to trust the deputy's words. Men were liars by nature, she'd learned. She didn't trust them, barely trusted anyone anymore, as a general rule. But she was tired from the trip and the happenings of the past few days and she was hungry, and as his gaze never faltered, never left her own, she found herself reluctantly letting that barrier she'd put so much effort into building begin to slip away, just a little and just until she had made it through whatever came next. She took a deep breath and steeled herself against her own nerves, taking his hand as he helped her out of the car and closed the door behind her. Her heart beat against her ribs with every step she took as he led her into the courthouse and flashed his badge to the guard. They passed through without any trouble and Olivia's grip on the deputy's hand unconsciously tightened as they neared the elevator to go to the floor where the marshal's office was located. She didn't want to do this, he knew, but it did say something about her that she'd made it this far.

Tim was greeted by jokes from his coworkers, the general light spirits of an office without any real troubles for the moment, but he felt Olivia's grip tighten and her palms grow sweaty. It almost made him sad, he thought, that she should be so afraid of this. It was going to be the least painful part of the witsec process, including the pending testimony. She was only here to be read through the rules one last time and to receive some general dos and don'ts for staying in Lexington. Parts of town to avoid, rules to be safe, guidelines for witness protection. But, he supposed, it was still frightening, to have left everything behind and find yourself somewhere else, surrounded by no one but strangers. He'd been fucking terrified when he'd left for basic – not that he'd dare admit it. And she wasn't there to learn how to defend herself, she was there to be someone else until she could tell the world what had happened, before disappearing again. As his mother would've said, it was not a task for the faint of heart, he thought with the tug of a smile. So as her grip on his hand tightened, he tightened his own grip in return.

They'd go out into the battlefield together. She wasn't what he'd pictured, Tim thought, when he imagined getting lost in the desert of some middle eastern country, with a mission to complete and men at his back.

He opened the door to the conference room for her and let her step inside in front of him. Olivia waited to see him follow her in, followed immediately by an older man with a balding head she instinctively didn't like, though she couldn't say why. Of course, she didn't like anyone at the moment, save for the deputy – and that was a temporary truce on her part – so in the end, she figured it didn't really mean much. Deputy Gutterson stood behind a seat near where she stood while the unidentified man stood at the end of the table. "Miss Mason, this is Art Mullen. He's the Chief." the deputy introduced him. The chief offered her an inviting smile that was clearly meant to say 'I come in peace', probably in reaction to the look of pure bewilderment and dislike at the place in which she currently found herself.

Not that he blamed her, of course. His wife gave him that look every Thursday night when he ate egg salad for dinner, then lay awake all night with heartburn and gas that could used to smoke out an escaped felon. He was quite familiar with the expression, perhaps had even grown just a tad fond of it. "Miss Mason, there's nothing to worry about. You're in more than capable hands with Tim, here, and we only have to go over a few small details before you can go to the safe house." Art told her easily.

Olivia's interest piqued at the mention of Deputy Gutterson's name, though she kept it from showing easily enough from all the anxiety she'd been feeling since her arrival. She looked to the deputy, who gave her an encouraging nod of his head, and turned back to Art. She nodded her understanding before responding. "Okay, but please just call me Olivia."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys :D Thanks so much for reading! I'm glad people seem to be enjoying this. So, I have to ask, did everyone see Margo Martindale (Mags Bennett) on the pilot episode for Chaos on CBS the other night? XD I could not stop laughing. Not because the show was funny (which it totally kicked ass, by the way - plus, did you see the eye candy? Eric Close and James Murray? Hotness...!) but because she looked so normal! Not a bad actress, that one! **

**Okay, anyway, on another note, I do have news. I'm heading out of town at the end of this on a sort of but not really vacation, but I'm going to be writing the whole(ish) time, so I do plan to update from the road. So, my fellow Tim lovers, read on and enjoy. I hope this chapter's as good as the past two. Oh, and I read back through to try and fix any mistakes, but if you do see one, sorry about that...  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own and am not affiliated with FX, Elmore Leonard or anything related to Justified. I am not obsessed with the show and the character of Tim Gutterson. I do not have Jacob Pitts handcuffed to my bed and completely at my mercy... that I'll publicly admit. Olivia is mine, though. **

Tim had never been terribly impressed with the safe houses they used for witnesses. The walls of the apartment were painted a dull ivory, the carpet was a deep red, and as he paced in a few steps ahead of Olivia to check the place, he thought the sparse apartment had all the life of a crime scene instead of a sanctuary from whatever horrors the witnesses were facing outside of federal protection. But then, it wasn't all that different from when he was in the military and stationed in some remote village on a mission; only the bare essentials. It wasn't fun and it certainly wasn't pretty, but it was always functional and Tim had always found a way to get the job done. He gave the bedroom one last look over before walking back into the living room and finding Olivia had already stalked into the space without waiting for his go ahead.

She glanced around the apartment, her eyes straying over the furnishings, with a somewhat stoic expression. She never been the type of person to need much – which had always been a good thing, she thought, since she'd never really had much – so in the end she knew it wouldn't be a problem. It was just the new, alien environment that was bothering her. She tried to remember the last time she'd found herself in a place so clean. When was the last time, she thought, that she'd sat down on a couch? Simply sat and done something she enjoyed, like curling up to watch television or… come to think of it, when was the last time she'd actually done something she enjoyed? She'd never had time for it before and she'd certainly never had her own space, her own things. She found herself staring at the dark blue couch, that clashed with the carpet like an offense to her eyes, feeling her stomach knot as the strange sense that she was lost, that she didn't belong here, drifted into her thoughts. She took a deep breath and clenched her hands closed tightly, determined to let the feeling pass and move forward.

This was her life now. She'd made her choice, she'd left everything behind…and wouldn't it be blissful, she reasoned with herself, to make her own decisions about her life? She took a tentative step toward the couch, refusing to give in to her nerves, and sat down. She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding as she let a small, triumphant smile curve her lips.

Tim had been watching her with a curious fascination as she drifted through the room, her eyes taking it all in. He tried to read the expression on her face, wondered what she must've been thinking at that moment as she ran her hand along the arm of the couch. A small, forlorn smile tugged at the corners of her lips and Tim got the odd sense that he was suddenly invading on some kind of private moment; that he didn't belong here, watching her look around the apartment as if she'd never seen one before in her life...as if just being able to sit on a couch was the most wondrous thing in the universe. For the most part, her face betrayed nothing, but he thought he saw, or maybe just imagined, the small look of fear and a wave of relief pass over her face as she sat, perfectly still and her eyes closed blissfully, and let the moment wash over her.

She looked like she'd never had a moment's rest in her life, Tim thought. He leaned back against the wall for a long moment and just watched her, a feeling that he refused to acknowledge rising in his chest at the sight. She seemed...at peace. For a moment, at least.

...he hoped Olivia could find that here, even if she wasn't going to be there very long. He heard her sigh and had to actively resist the small smile that tugged at his lips. "It's perfect." she whispered. The words hung in the air and Tim couldn't help but feel warmth for her sudden, small smile as she looked back at him.

"You'll be all right here, then?" he asked, knowing her response. When she gave a slight nod of her head and leaned back in the couch, Tim pushed off the wall and walked over to her. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a prepaid cell phone, which Olivia eyed speculatively. "All of my information has been programmed in, so if you need anything, you can call." he told her. Olivia took the phone with a skeptical expression, wondering that she'd trusted the deputy this far and whether she should trust further. She glanced up at him.

"So, that's it?" she asked. "You just give me your number and I call you if I need anything."

"I'll be stopping by, to check how you're doin'." Tim added. He wasn't sure if he'd detected a hint of apprehension in her voice when she'd asked, but the last thing he wanted was to overwhelm her, either with too much contact or too little. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration – normally, he was pretty good at reading people. This case had thrown him off his balance from the beginning. "First week in protection can be tough." Olivia gave him a tired smirk.

"I've had worse." she replied. Tim sighed and Olivia chuckled quietly to herself. She'd always been told she was a difficult person. "There any food around here?" she asked, feeling her stomach turn on itself. She'd had a sandwich from the cafeteria at the courthouse, but it had been stale and Olivia found she'd had little appetite while she listened to Tim and his boss hash out the details.

"The kitchen is empty, but there's a market just down the street. I can pick up a few things for you now or you can go yourself." Tim half hoped she'd take him up on her offer, although he refused to admit it. His work day was almost over. He'd be off the clock and then he'd be headed home. Olivia watched him for a long moment.

"Grocery shopping?" she asked, almost incredulously. The idea was entirely foreign to Olivia. She'd never been grocery shopping in her life. Hell, she'd barely paid attention to anything she'd eat half the time. "At a store?" Tim's eyebrows rose.

"Unless there's somewhere else you shop for food." he replied, slightly amused at her response. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him thoughtfully.

"No. No, that'll work fine." she eventually said, pushing herself up off the couch. She walked over to him, pausing just a step or two in front of him and glaring up at him, her arms crossed over her chest. Tim stared down at her, surprised at her sudden response and her closeness. _Distance_, whispered a voice in his head, but there wasn't distance between them. Not at that moment. He could smell, albeit faintly, the scent of her shampoo. He was close enough that he could feel her breath when she exhaled and sensed the warmth from her body. _Distance_, came the voice again. How long had it been…since he'd been so close…. "I'm ready when you are." she said after a long moment, challenge in her eyes.

"I'll let you get some sleep and you can go in the morning." he told her, refusing to play her game. She'd been given some money to start living off of while she was in Kentucky earlier that day – she'd be able to manage, Tim reasoned. Besides, he needed to take a step back, to leave that room and breathe in the fresh air. He stepped to her side and walked past her, heading back to the door, inwardly fighting with himself. He didn't want to go back to the office. He didn't want to go home. It was too quiet there, too empty, and when Olivia had leapt from the couch and paced over to him, he'd felt a sudden shock of life burst into the room. More than that, in her eyes, he'd thought. Suddenly, where they'd been cynical and cold and distance all day, there'd been fire and life. It was too much for Tim, so suddenly and from an unexpected place that he didn't dare stay in that apartment too long, and especially not with so little space between them.

Olivia turned to watch him leave, examining his movements not for the first time that day. Everything was moving in such a whirlwind, she thought. She'd barely had time to catch her breath after making a deal with the DA before she was being put in witness protection and relocated to some place she'd ordinarily never even think of going to. Yet, there she was, in a strange apartment in Kentucky, with no idea how long she'd be there. She didn't mean to jump at Tim so fiercely; after all, he'd been good to her so far and even though she'd decided again that she probably couldn't trust him, she got the sense that he was probably intelligent and good at his job. It was just that he'd been so goddamned… _professional_ the entire day that the first sign of sarcasm or personality had been like an invitation to her that she couldn't resist.

Tim glanced back to find she'd followed him to the door and had taken hold on the knob as he pulled it open. She leaned against the door as he looked down at her, biting her lower lip. "Do you think—" she paused, choking on the question. Tim looked at her curiously, wishing she'd finished her thought. Did he think, _what?_ Part of him was dying to know, but it was the part that couldn't bring itself to ask. She sighed, her face suddenly tired and that spark in her eyes gone just as suddenly as it had appeared. The flame suddenly burnt out. He felt almost sad at its disappearance. "Thank you for your help." she said at last. He nodded, disappointed.

"I'll check on you soon." he returned. Olivia watched him walk down the open hallway and into the parking lot before she closed the door, locking it. She turned around and gazed at the apartment once again, taking in the emptiness and the silence of it. By herself, it seemed almost larger than life, ready to swallow her up, and so very cold. She slid to the floor, pulling her legs to chest and forcing herself to take steady, deep breaths. She closed her eyes, silently wishing away the fear that tore at her heart.

Tim was a very good driver, which he reflected was probably a very good thing, because if he hadn't been able to jerk on the brakes and stop the car so gently so fucking quickly, he'd have become up close and personal with the dark red corvette that was going twice the speed limit through the red light.

And Tim didn't think he could handle being up close to anyone else today. He didn't know why those few moments of closeness to Olivia had taken it out of him and he refused to speculate on the matter, but he couldn't deny that he felt drained as he drove away. It was a long drive in the late afternoon traffic to get back to the courthouse and then an even longer drive to get to his house. When he finally made it in the front door, he dropped his keys and discarded his jacket on the table to the left before finding his couch in the dark room, lit only by stray streaks of withering daylight slipping in through cracks in the curtains, and laid down. Closing his eyes, his thoughts reluctantly drifted back to earlier that afternoon and Olivia, staring up at him defiantly.

….he wondered if her couch was as comfortable as his….

Sleep did not come easily to Olivia that night, which surprised her. She'd had no trouble nearly falling asleep on the train and had certainly drifted off during her ride in with Tim. Still, she spent most of the night tossing and turning, trying to find a position in the bed that would magically lull her into a deep, restful sleep from which she wouldn't awaken for…. she hoped a very long while. She fell asleep now and then and every time she'd dream of what happened before she'd come to Kentucky. She'd hear the music of the club where she used to dance, feel her heart pound in her chest as it kept time with the rhythm. She saw the man enter the club, heard the arguing, the gunshot. She saw his blood on her hands as he begged for his life.

And every time, the dream ended the same. She did all that she could; she tried to save him. But there was too much blood, and Liam was too angry with him. She heard the crack of a gunshot as Liam ended the man's life. Then she woke up.

Mostly, in her tossing and turning, though, she'd close her eyes and near the threshold of sleep, just on the border of waking and dreaming, and there'd be a noise. Real or imagined, she was never sure, but Olivia couldn't help herself as she jolted upright in her bed so quickly her head spun, aching from denied sleep and sudden rushes of adrenaline. By the time it was morning and she forced herself out of bed to go to the kitchen and realized she needed to shop, she was on the verge of tears. She leaned back against the fridge, enjoying the coolness of the door on her back, as her eyes strayed to her purse and she contemplated what to do.

Now where, she wondered, did he say that market was?

Tim was stiff when he woke. He wasn't exactly surprised, because it always happened when he slept on the couch, but he wished he'd had enough foresight to trudge to his actual bed. He rubbed his neck, wincing slightly at the soreness from being craned at an awkward angle. Never again, he told himself, would he sleep on the couch. He knew it was a lie, of course, and that he would sleep on his couch again – probably in the near future. Still, it didn't stop him cursing the day he'd ever bought the piece of furniture or for cursing himself for being such an idiot.

He could smell the coffee he'd set to brew as he got dressed for the day, showering before pulling on a pair of cargos and a polo shirt. He drank his coffee in the kitchen as he played back messages on his home phone from the day before that he hadn't had a chance to check. He groaned when he heard his mother's voice come on the line, asking if he'd heard from his sister recently and to call her back, _goddammit_! He quickly hit the delete button and cut to the next message, a call from an old army buddy who'd just gotten leave. He listened for a long moment, remembering his early days in the service. Before they'd discovered his skill with a rifle, things had been very different.

The drive in to the office was quiet that morning, which Tim hoped was a sign that the day would be relatively quiet as well. Of course, he didn't actually expect that it would be and about two hours into his morning, after Raylan forgot it was his turn to bring the coffee and Tim was returning to the courthouse from running a quick errand, his suspicions were confirmed when he ran into Winona. "Tim, good morning." she greeted him with a tired expression and a slight yawn and Tim smirked in delight at the casual run in. He'd seen her around the courthouse now and then long before Raylan arrived and had always stopped to notice her, how her golden hair fell around her face or how she always walked with such confidence in her step. It was bad form, he knew. She was married, happily, though to who, he didn't know.

"Good mornin', Winona." Tim replied, watching her pause to take a sip of her coffee as she glanced toward one of the rooms. "Busy mornin'?" Winona looked up at him from her coffee and laughed lightly.

"Busy week." she told him. Not at all a good one, she thought to herself. She didn't know who she was angrier at, Gary or Raylan. "I'm actually late for a meeting, though it looks like everyone else is, too." She peaked into the room once more before turning back to Tim. "How about yourself? How's the Marshal's office?" She half wanted to fish for information about Raylan, to know what he was doing lately, how he'd been acting, but the other half of her was screaming _damn_ Raylan and his damned cowboy hat. Besides, she didn't know Tim that well and she didn't want to bring him into her personal business – disaster that it was.

"It's a quiet mornin'." he replied easily. Truth be told, Tim hated small talk. He thought it was entirely useless. While he'd never been much of a talker and when he did talk, he thoroughly enjoyed a little wiseass sarcasm, small talk was something he neither enjoyed nor made an effort for. He'd take an awkward silence over it any day.

"Oh, good. You could probably use some quiet for a while." Winona said. When Tim gave her a curious expression, she continued. "I heard about that man on the news, Jonathan Hawks, breakin' out and crossing state lines, taking a woman hostage." She remembered the highlights from the news, although Winona hadn't really paid much attention to it at the time. She'd been busy with other things, like trying to sort out her husband. _Ex_-husband. Oh, hell, who was she kidding? She didn't know which one of them she was trying to sort out, but she was damned sure it was one of them. Or both of them.

She needed more coffee. "Yeah, we were out on that." Tim shuddered just thinking of the experience. Not that he didn't like Raylan, because he had perfect respect for the man, but after two weeks chasing down a fugitive with only Raylan and his hat for company, he was damned glad to be home. Besides, he was pretty sure Raylan took that hat into the shower with him, and if there was one thing that Tim found disconcerting, it was men who were too close to their hats. "Lucky, it turned out all right."

"I'm so glad." Winona told him with a smile. She had to admit to herself, he was actually sort of cute. He wasn't as sophisticated as Gary or as rugged as Raylan, but then he probably wasn't nearly as much as trouble, either. She could, Winona thought to herself, go for a little simplicity about now, and Tim seemed delightfully simple.

Not that she could… because she was taken…. sort of…. and even if she could, she wasn't going to… right? "_Excuse me_," Winona glanced around as a stern looking woman, with her dark brown hair pulled back into a low bun and a crisp business suit, glared at her. Winona and Tim moved quickly, allowing her to move past them into the room Winona had been eyeing.

"Well, she's delightful." Winona murmured. Tim chuckled quietly in response as Winona sighed and took another sip of her coffee quickly. "Okay, well, I guess I better go in and get set up. Its gunna be a nasty one."

"Oh?" Tim asked, sure that he shouldn't be enjoying watching her sip her coffee and grab her bag in such a hurry to get inside.

"I think it's supposed to be a custody case. Parents breaking up, that kind of thing." she told him. "It's always terrible, fighting over kids." Not that she'd know, she thought. Maybe, if Raylan had cared enough to leave the Marshals, to do some kind of job that would be safe, that she could rely on… Of course, she was supposed to have been able to rely on Gary, she thought, and that sure as hell didn't go as planned.

It didn't occur to Tim exactly what she was saying until he spied a familiar, harried face turning the corner and heading toward them. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she nervously straightened her blouse as Melody schooled herself to walk quickly – but not too quickly – toward the courtroom they were supposed to meeting in. She paused momentarily as she noticed her younger brother standing just outside with a woman, watching her with a surprised expression on his face.

Well, that was her, Melody thought to herself. She'd always surprised everyone, always when she screwed something up. It'd been a while since she'd talked to Tim and even longer since she'd spoken to their mother – that was Tim's responsibility now, she thought – so she supposed the surprised look on his face that was caught somewhere between anger and sadness was probably justified as she stalked toward him, determined not to let the wave of anxiety and guilt she felt from her lack of contact intimidate her. She needed to be on top of her game today, and besides, she thought, Tim would understand.

Tim did understand as she walked closer to him, noticed the subtle signs of fear and anger in her eyes and demeanor that could only be seen by someone who knew her well. They'd been close as kids and he'd seen that look so many times growing up, he could spot it from a mile away. She was headed to a custody meeting, to argue it out with Jack. She paused a few steps from him and Winona.

"Tim," her voice came out laced with relief. Whatever else was going on with her or in Tim's life, she was happy to see him and she was happy he was there, in the courthouse on the same day that she would be fighting for her son. Tim had always been a source of strength, to anyone who'd ever known him. "I'm glad you're here."

Winona looked between the two, confused but unwilling to show it. It was none of her business, she reminded herself, and she had much more important things to worry about. She had to get to work. She smiled at Tim and the woman she didn't know and walked inside the room to make sure she was all set up for the meeting, glancing back occasionally to see who she was and how, exactly, she knew Tim.

"Everything all right?" Tim asked, his voice filled with worry. Melody laughed to herself and looked away, trying to hide the tears ready to spill from her eyes. Was everything all right? Nothing could be all right, not for a long while.

"No." Melody replied, looking back to him. Tim felt his heart ache at the expression on his sister's face. "It's bad. I think, uh…" she paused, bit her lip, took a deep breath. "It's just bad." she told him with a shake of her head. Tim sighed, wishing he could do something, anything, to help her, and knowing that for the moment, at least, there was nothing he could do. He leaned forward and put his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug like he'd done so often when they were younger. He felt her choke back a sob against his chest as she leaned into him, grateful for the support.

"I'll be here when you're done." Tim told her firmly. It was the only thing he could do, be there after the fact. He had nothing else he could offer her, but Melody was grateful for even that much. It had been a horrible year and she expected things to get worse before they got better. She nodded against his chest and reluctantly, the two separated. Melody wiped her face with her hands, trying to erase the few tears that had escaped and smiled sadly up at her brother before she turned and walked into the courtroom, feeling almost as though she were marching to the gallows.

Tim found a seat nearby and stayed, determined to keep his word. They wouldn't miss him upstairs for a while, he knew, and besides, he wanted to get a look at Jack. He knew he couldn't touch him, as much as he really wanted to. It would only hurt Melody's case. That didn't mean that he couldn't stare him down as he walked down the hall and into that room and secretly imagine beating him to death with his bare hands.

Despite his past, Tim was not a violent person, but he did find the mental image to be somewhat… nice.

Olivia was lost. She was sure she'd been going the wrong way and had back tracked her steps for the third time before turning onto a street she hadn't yet explored. She was, she supposed, enjoying exploring her temporary home and discovering all of the mostly residential streets. Still, she was hungry and she needed to buy food to stock up her kitchen. Not that she had any idea what she was going to buy – what did one get at a grocery store, anyway? It'd been so long since she'd been near one, she didn't really remember.

She sighed and looked around, wishing she knew what was doing, when a noise caught her attention. It was music, she realized. It was country music, she thought with a shudder….but it wasn't entirely bad, really. Curious and hopelessly lost, she wandered down the quiet street toward the noise, which came from a small building not very far away from her. She froze when she saw the neon signs in the window, barely visible in the daylight, and realized what she'd discovered. This, she thought, was not at all a part of her plan.

Not that she had much of a plan, but it seemed to reason that if she gave up everything she knew and she was being relocated and given a new life, she should damn well have some sort of plan or resolution or code to go by. Bars, she thought to herself, were no longer a part of her life. She ignored the dryness of her throat and the thirst she'd been feeling for the past two days and turned around to walk in the other direction. But now that she knew it was there, it wasn't like she could forget it, she thought, or pretend it didn't exist. She paused, fighting with herself over what she should do. _Walk away_, she whispered to herself. _It's not your life anymore. You don't need it._

Olivia desperately, _desperately_ focused on that small, empowering voice. But bars, she heard herself think suddenly… bars have food.

**And remember guys, reviews are love and love makes the world go 'round (so if you are reading, take a minute and let me know?)**


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